Be Thou My Vision
by St.Stephen's
Summary: Elise was seventeen when three good men on TV changed her way of thinking. She was twenty when three very bad men changed her life.
1. Naught Be All Else

Title: Be Thou My Vision  
Author: St.Stephen's  
Series: The Copycat Series (1)  
Disclaimer: I wish! If I owned Conner and Murphy McManus, they would never leave my dorm room.  
Summary: Series: How the Saints affect two lives. Story: Elise was seventeen when three good men on TV changed her way of thinking. She was twenty when three very bad men changed her life.  
AN 1: This story will be part of a series and is meant to be read first. The sequel will be called Day of Wrath. There may be further stories, but that depends on what y'all think! (lol, see AN 2 at the bottom of the page.) Also, YAY for my first BDS fic! And my first posted at EVER! Lol, I've been reading here since I was thirteen, you'd think I would have posted something by now.

Chapter 1: Naught Be All Else

She'd grown up with them. When most people say that, they mean they've known someone from infancy, or at least potty-training. But Elise had never met them, and she hadn't heard of them until she was barely out of high school. But she knew that the most important part of growing up doesn't come with Power Rangers and candy necklaces, but with cars and college. And for the whole seemingly endless limbo between childhood and adulthood, she'd known them. And she didn't even know their names.

She had been eighteen (well, almost), and enjoying her last summer at home before college, when the grainy pencil sketches appeared on Nightline, and her father growled his approval.

"Thank god someone's doing it," he'd muttered, lying back in his recliner, "Wish I had the goddamned guts."

"Damn right," she'd whispered, pushing long, flat brown hair out of her eyes. Her mother had peeked into the living room to chide them both for their language, but Dad just laughed. "She hears worse every damn day at that school, Colleen!"

"No shit," she'd muttered later that night as she crawled into her bed, a skinny twin that barely fit her lengthening legs. She'd whined and begged to move her older sisters' beds out of the room they'd all shared after the older girls had gone, one to college and one to the Air Force, but her mother insisted that Claire and Marie would always have a place in their home. Although, why that place couldn't be in Josh's room, Elise didn't know. He never came home anyway.

She began her prayers that night, still a little childish and all the sweeter for it, with him, her beloved big brother the Marine. But she ended it with those men she'd seen on the TV.

"Oh, and Lord?" she'd whispered, "I know most people won't think those Saints are heroes. But I know they're doing your work, Father. I would ask that you bless them and keep them safe, so that they can keep going. _Be thou my vision_," she whispered softly to end her prayer, as she had since she was big enough to say her own, "_oh, Lord of my heart, naught be all else to me, save that thou art._ Amen."

By the time she was actually eighteen, with her own car (a beat-up Coupe De Ville the same age as herself, which she'd paid for) and a computer (which she hadn't) she had eyewitness reports of the Yakavetta trial tacked up on her wall, next to those same sketches. Her mother worried about her, with her black nail polish, wife beater tee shirts and heavy eye makeup, but Dad said it was a phase, and besides, she hadn't quit going to church, so that was all right, then.

"Besides, I'd rather have her walls covered with good men, doing good work than some prissy singers."

"Good men doing good work." It was how Dad referred to everyone from missionaries (whom he prayed for every night over dinner) to the local mechanic. Anyone he deemed worthy of his highest praise: hardworking, God-fearing men. As she headed off to college, the old Coupe De Ville stuffed full, her newspaper clippings and printouts carefully folded in an envelope in her purse, she made a promise to herself. It became her highest goal in life for her father to say of her "A good girl, doing good work."

"Oh Father," she breathed as she started the engine and pulled out of the driveway. "Help me to do what's best and to stay on the path you have laid before me. And Lord? Bless the Saints and keep them safe." She ended the prayer as she had for nearly two months: with a request for the Saint's well-being and a line from a song. "_Be Thou my wisdom, be Thou my true word. I ever with Thee and Thou with me Lord_. Amen."

AN 2: Chapter and story titles come from the hymn "Be Thou My Vision", translated from the Irish by Mary Byrne. This is the hymn Elise quotes in her prayers as well. Check it out (especially the version by Van Morrison or Ginny Owens) 'cause it's beautiful. Chapters should be longer once I get into the action more. Also, reviews are always appreciated, and I'm in the market for a beta. If you want the job, PLEASE let me know, lol.

Also: not entirely sure yet if I want my heroes here to meet up with the MacManus brothers. What do y'all think? I just KNOW that if it happens, there'll be a Murphy romance in the offing, lol. One way or the other. Possibly Conner might even get some, lol. Although I'm SUCH the Murphy fangirl.

PS: Super-big MAJOR thanx to Sarah for hashing out plot points with me. I know how YOU vote on the MacManus' meeting up with my heroes question!


	2. Riches I Heed Not

Chapter 2: Riches I Heed Not

After a twelve-hour drive from Baton Rouge to Roanoke, Virginia and an hour's worth of check-in with the Residence Life department before she received her room key, Elise wanted nothing more than to collapse into bed. But she'd have to make it first.

'_Aw, shit_' she thought uncharitably as she heard loud giggles emanating from room 308 at the end of her third-floor hall. They were high-pitched and irritating as hell. She sighed and soldiered on, her Navy surplus sea bag stuffed full of clothes bumping against her hip and her combat boots thudding on the floor. The giggles subsided as she entered, taking stock of the room that was to be her home for the next few months. It was a little bigger than she'd imagined, but just as bland, with stark white walls. One of the beds had been pushed against the far wall, underneath the window, and it was covered by a plain blue duvet. Two girls were seated on it, still chuckling a bit, and the boy- oh wait, nope. That was no boy, that was a man (what the hell was a man doing on the campus of a women's college?) standing in front of them, who turned as she cleared her throat.

"Hi," she managed, letting the heavy bag slide to the floor, her eyes flicking back and forth between the three occupants of the room, wondering which one was her roommate. The shorter girl with the grating laugh? Or the taller blonde with striking green eyes? Elise suddenly felt very young, standing there in her jeans and combat boots, her nails black, her hair hanging halfway down her back, and her very run-of-the-mill brown eyes. "I'm Elise."

The taller girl suddenly stood and rushed towards her, her arms outstretched. Elise submitted to the hug, a little bemused. She caught the man's sparkling hazel glance and realized that he was laughing again as the blonde gushed,

"Hi! I'm Abigail and I'm your roommate! I hope you don't mind that I took the left side, it's just-"

"Whoa, who, Abby!" the man cut in, pulling on Abigail's shoulder, "Let the girl breathe, huh?" Elise shot him a grateful glance as she bent to open her bag.

"It's cool. I don't much care where we sleep, yet." She answered, digging for the Wal-Mart bag that contained her new sheets and comforter. "Besides, we might decide to move stuff around anyway."

"Right!" Abigail agreed brightly. "Well, this is my little sister, Marie and my older brother, Cameron."

As Elise reached forward to shake Marie's hand, she realized that the girl was noticeably younger than she'd thought at first, maybe 14 or 15 and that she was now glaring sullenly at her sister.

"Big sisters, huh, Marie?" she asked teasingly. "I've got two." The little blonde's sneer morphed into a bright smile, a great deal like her sister's, except for the braces.

"Damn, I'm sorry," she giggled.

"Marie!" Cameron admonished, his own smile quirking into more of a smirk. "Language!"

"Eh, you get used to it." Elise cracked as she stood, ignoring Cameron for the moment. "Plus, you can always steal the clothes they can't fit into anymore, as much as they try. Actually, my oldest sister's name is Marie too."

She turned to Cameron then, her hand out. As he took it, she glanced up into deep eyes, green at the center with amber flecks making them sparkle as if at some universal joke. _'Whoa'_ just about summed up her thoughts.

"Hi, Elise," he said, pumping her hand firmly, but not excessively. "It's nice to meet you."

"You too," she managed to croak out. Then, she could feel the words bubbling up and she tried to stop them, but she blurted out "You have really pretty eyes."

Cameron laughed again, the skin around his striking eyes crinkling slightly. In fact, every single one of them had extremely lovely eyes. Abigail's were a pale green, and Marie's icy grey.

"Thanks," Cameron chuckled, "You have a very cute accent."

Elise could feel her cheeks getting hot and flashed Cameron a smile before she turned away to begin pulling her sheets out of their packaging. Some furious whispering was going on behind her, but she simply began tucking the fitted sheet over the mattress and trying to smooth out the worst of the wrinkles.

"Uh, Elise?" Cameron's voice was still shaking with repressed laughter. _'Great.'_ She thought, _'Perfect, your roommate's very cute brother thinks you're a complete fucking moron. Well done, Miss Dempsey.'_ She turned, face still flaming red and tried to smile at the brother and sister tag-team.

"Do you need any help getting the rest of your stuff up?" Abigail asked kindly.

Elise cast an eye over the bags she'd dropped to the floor. Sea bag, laptop case, big black duffel full of various shoes and assorted items, purse. That was it.

"Um," Elise cast her eyes down as she asked quietly, "the rest?"

Abigail stared at her for a moment, and looked down at Elise's belongings and looked up at her brother. Cameron did much the same, but when he looked up it was at the brunette who was fussing with the bed clothes. That was it?

"Fucking awesome!" Marie burst out, causing Cameron to look at her exasperatedly. "I just spent four hours dragging Abby's shit up here, and you made it in one trip! Girl, you rock!"

The ice broken, the three older people burst out laughing. Abigail was the first to recover, chirping brightly,

"Well, it's a good thing I brought the TV and fridge, right?"

"Yep," Elise agreed easily, pulling slightly squashed pillows out of the duffel bag and sliding them into their cases.

"We'll have to get some posters or something to brighten this place up. I wonder if we could paint if we painted over it at the end of the…"

Elise continued unpacking her meager belongings, refolding and putting away plain white tee-shirts, band shirts and wife beaters, placing her jeans in the bottom drawer and throwing her laundry bag in the bottom of the closet along with her shoes. She listened happily as Abigail chatted away about posters and lighting, classes and parties. A few times she looked up to watch Cameron's eyes crinkle in laughter. A couple of those times he caught her gaze and held it until she dropped her head, blushing.

'_Not a bad day, all things considered,'_ she thought. _'Now to get through orientation. And find a job.'_


	3. Thou My Soul's Shelter

**AN: ARGH! I uploaded the wrong one, with the wrong title. Shit. Oh well, here's the right one. No real changes, a few grammatical things, and a title change.**

**BIG thanks to leisltheweasl, GoddessLaughs, and MKOLO for your reviews! Keep 'em comin' folks ;) Also, I am slowly but surely learning how to format these things to make it easier to read. Stick with me, here.**

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Chapter 3: Thou My Soul's Shelter

_Papers, assignments, a crap job at a crap bar. Man oh man, I thought college was supposed to be fun. _

Two weeks, a box of red hair dye and one new tattoo into her college career, Elise was ready to slap somebody. She found herself wiping glasses behind the bar of a dive on Williamson Road, just ten minutes from campus, and fending off advances from the somewhat shady clientele. _It's a living, Lord. _She thought, carrying on her now-daily conversation with her Heavenly Father. She rarely thought of it as prayer anymore, since she was doing it nearly constantly, what with asking for patience to deal with Abigail, who was adorable, but nuts. _Kind of like a manic puppy_. And classes were, well, tough. And Momma called every afternoon. And keeping up her grades for her scholarship. Plus the job at Pop's and her work-study job in the library.

_Oh lord, oh lord. _Nearly last call. _Thanks, Father._ She flashed a crooked smile as she poured a shot of Jack for Professor Marks, from the Classics department. She wasn't sure how, considering that she was taking mostly introductory classes, but she'd quickly become familiar with most of the professors on campus. Marks, however, taught her Greek History class and could always be counted on for a laugh. He was in his late fifties, rotund and red-faced, with a graying mustache that was bushier than the thinning hair on his head.

"Now, don't you have an 8 AM class, Professor?" she joked, emphasizing her southern accent for the Scarlett O'Hara impression that always got Marks smiling.

"Yeah, well, you have your Herodotus paper due tomorrow, too, Missy." He reminded her good-naturedly, gesturing with his cigarette for emphasis.

"Finished it two days ago," Elise shot back, flipping her ponytail over her shoulder and replacing the bourbon bottle on the shelf.

"Good girl. Can you call me a cab, Elise?" Her hand was already reaching for the phone as he asked, and she dialed the cab company's number from memory. As she hung up, she heard a vaguely familiar voice calling,

"Hey, Dempsey! Quit angling for an 'A' and get me a beer!"

Elise turned with a sneer, but was met with a broad grin and sparkling hazel eyes.

"Oh, hey Cameron." She grinned back, her disgusted look melting as she grabbed a pint glass and began pulling a Guinness.

"Hey! What if I wanted a Bud Light?"

Elise snickered and set the half-full glass down to let the head settle as she leaned her elbows on the bar.

"I give you more credit than that, _Franklin_," she teased. "Besides, what's a nice guy like you doin' in a place like this?"

Cameron chuckled and jerked his thumb over his shoulder at a table full of people of varying ages dressed (as he was, she noticed) in back uniform pants and white shirts with black jackets over them.

"Your gang?" she asked nonchalantly as she finished filling his glass. "Your _posse_?"

"Please never say posse again, you little southern white girl." Cameron groaned. "No, they're my coworkers. I'm an EMT." He slid a few dollars across the bar and she took them as she said,

"Yeah, your sister mentioned it. One or twice. A minute. For a week." Elise smirked as she opened the register and put his money inside. "And who are you callin' little?"

After Professor Marks had said his goodbyes and climbed into a cab, the next hour had been spent alternately flirting shamelessly with the increasingly intoxicated Cameron and blushing furiously every time he said something nice.

Elise looked up at the clock as Pop (the owner and namesake) peaked out of the office and mouthed 'last call'. She nodded and picked up the mike to the PA system. Although the bar was small enough that, on a quiet night, she didn't really need it, the EMTs in the corner had gotten progressively louder.

"**Ok, folks. Last call! Order 'em, and drink up, 'cause I've got class in the morning!"**

She filled a few last minute orders and started closing out the register when the blaring TV above the bar switched from a college football game to the news. She looked up at the words "And in national news, notorious Russian crime boss Yuri Csokas was killed today in his New York home. He was shot by three unknown gunmen, although New York police think the murder may be the work of the equally notorious Boston Saints." Three very familiar pencil sketches appeared next to the anchor's head as Elise slid the register drawer closed, her eyes glued to the screen.

"Fan-fucking-tastic." Cameron's voice rang out from behind her. She spun, locking the deposit bag and sliding it under the bar and silently sending up a prayer, yet again, for the Saints' safety and freedom.

"What?" she managed to ask Cameron as she unloaded the small dishwasher behind the bar and began drying glasses.

"Love those guys," he slurred. "hey, you got a cigarette?" Elise wordlessly pulled her pack out of her back pocket and slid it across the bar. "Yeah, yeah. I see so much shit, you know, Elise? Like last week. There was this kid shot in a drive-by. Nine, ten years old." He pulled out a cigarette and lit it a little shakily and continued. "Gunshot to the stomach. Couldn't do a fuckin' thing but hold his hand. And you know, I can't tell anybody. Mom and Dad, they don't wanna hear about it. Dad only cares about the bottom line, and revenues and whatever. Mom says it's upsetting."

"What about Abby?" Elise ventured as the customers wandered out the door. Cameron snorted, his lively eyes glazed.

"Abby's just a baby. I love her so much, but she doesn't know. Marie either." He looked up, suddenly forceful. "And I don't want 'em to. They shouldn't have to see the shit I see. And Mark…" he trailed off, voice suddenly sad and his eyes empty.

Elise wasn't sure she should ask, but there it was, just hanging in the air, begging to be explained.

"Who's Mark?"

"My ex." _Ah. Ah ha!_

"Ok," Elise groaned, leaning back to glance into Pop's office. "Hey, Pop! Dishes are done, deposit bag's under the bar. Mind if I go?"

"Nah, go on, child. Don't you have a paper to finish?" The quirk of his bushy white eyebrow told her he'd heard the conversation with Professor Marks and was trying to get a rise out of her.

"Yep, put it off 'til the very last minute," she joked, grabbing her jacket and purse. Pop's face turned stern and he wagged his finger at her, but before he could scold her she laughed, "Oh come on, Pop. You know I finished it."

Elise slid the jacket over her arms, taking just a moment to enjoy the way the denim wrapped around her. It had been her father's and had gone to Vietnam with him, before she'd stolen it in high school.

"Ok, Franklin, come on," she ordered as she walked out from behind the bar. "Let's go."

"What?" Cameron asked, a little bemused. He looked up at her, eyes glassy and confused and she just smiled and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"I'm sure Abby won't mind if you crash on our floor. We'll come back for your car in the morning." The older man put up a token protest but she pushed him out the door and bullied him easily into the passenger seat of her Cadillac.

Outside of the comforting warmth and low lighting of the bar, Elise's confidence slid a bit and the ride back to campus was quiet. She wasn't sure but she thought that Cameron might have fallen asleep with his head against the window. Which meant it would not be fun trying to wake him for the long walk from the parking lot to her building. But as she stopped for the light in front of the entrance to campus, his voice broke the silence.

"Elise, I didn't mean to tell you that stuff." Elise nodded as the light turned green and she took the turn.

"I know. But it's ok that you did. If you don't want to tell Abby-"

"I can't!" He interrupted, his voice strained.

"Does she know about- I mean, that you're gay?" She stumbled a little over the question, unsure if he realized that he'd said that.

"Oh yeah, she doesn't care about that. I just-" he sighed and scrubbed his hand over his face as she pulled into the parking lot. He was quiet as she found a space (a really really crappy one, and why the underclassmen parking lot was way out here by the stables, she'd never know) but as they shut their doors and began walking up the hill to the path that led to her building, he spoke again.

"Abby believes the best about people. Always. And I don't want to take that away from her. She really believes that everyone's got good in them, very deep down."

Elise sighed. As far as she knew, some people were just evil to the core. She remembered lying flat under her tiny twin bed, crushed up with Marie and Claire, listening to gunshots outside. A memorial for a girl in her middle school who was raped and killed. She had been 13. Drug deals at school. A morning where Makayla didn't show up for school and no one asked why, because they knew it was because her father had gotten drunk again last night and she didn't want to come to school with bruises.

"I can't blame you for wanting to protect her, Cam," she said, slipping an arm around his shoulder and offering him a cigarette. He took it and lit one for her. "But you've got to be able to let it out somehow. And, well…" she trailed off a bit as she considered what to say. "I'm not saying you have to talk to me," she inhaled, letting the action and the nicotine calm the shaking anger in her hand. "But I already know how bad people can be. I've lived with it my whole life. You're not going to surprise me or take away my innocence."

Cameron just nodded and slid his arm around her waist, and they walked on. Elise noticed that they were the same height, and her heeled cowboy boots put her over him a bit. They walked on, cigarettes in her right hand and his left, until they came to the door and she had to drop her arm from his shoulders to get her keys.

The walk up three flights of stairs was interesting, and she ended up with Cam's arm over her shoulders this time, so she could catch him if he fell. But as they entered the dorm room where Abby was already asleep, he was walking a little more steadily. Elise collected a few pillows from the mountain of them that Abby kept on her bed during the day but pushed off to sleep and handed Cameron the throw blanket she'd picked up at Wal-Mart.

She had turned off the lamp that Abby kept on for her and changed into a tank top and shorts, and climbed into bed before she heard Cameron whisper.

"Elise?"

"Yeah?"

"I hate them."

"That's ok."

"Thanks."

"Go to sleep, Cam."

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**AN 2: Wow, that one was hard to get through, for some reason. Next chapter will be a little more action-y (I think) and will probably be up some time tomorrow. I've got three votes 'Yea' for meeting up with the MacManus brothers! As that is a majority of the people I've heard from (total: 5, lol) and 'cause I kinda wanted to do it anyway, look for that. I'll get started on that as soon as I'm done with 'Day of Wrath' which will be Cam's POV. Smooches! ;)**


	4. Thou and Thou Only

**I know it's late. Blame people who are funny. I spent six hours reading jokes online! It started out as research! I wanted Cam to tell very bad Irish jokes in the third story. So I tried to find some. I only found TWO good ones. That's IT. sigh Also, been reading up on guns for the action-y bits…Mmm, SIGs. Wait, is this why I never get papers done before 2 am? BTW: Warning! Religious material ahead! If you're gonna flame me, get out now! I warned you! I promise I'm not trying to convert anybody with this story (heck, I don't even call myself a Christian anymore!) but these developments are necessary for the characters. You have been warned! No flames. Thank you.**

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Chapter 4: Thou and Thou Only

The rest of the semester passed in a blur of papers, lab reports, and even a few parties. Abigail was a wreck during finals, buzzing between the library and their room, and Elise felt like her head was going to explode every time Abby opened her mouth. It took every ounce of patience she had and all that the Lord could give her to keep from smacking her on the back of the head. Cameron came into Pop's every night after his shift, but never got as drunk as he had the first night. Behind the bar, Elise realized that it was easy to shed her habitual shyness. But it was the day when Cameron discovered that she loved to sing that was her downfall.

It had been a cold night, just after Thanksgiving break and she was alternating between filling orders and reading her Ecology notes. She hadn't even realized she was doing it, but when 'Rodeo' by Garth Brooks came on the jukebox, it was instinct to sing along. It was when Cameron joined in on the chorus that she looked up from her notes and realized that the five men of varying ages seated at the bar were watching her with smiles.

From that night on, Cameron made it his mission to get her to sing as often as possible. He learned the songs she couldn't resist (most Garth Brooks, the new Dixie Chicks, Chris Ledoux, Dumas Walker by Kentucky Headhunters) and dropped every last quarter he could get his hands on into the jukebox playing them. Even Pop got in on it, using the CD player that played when no one used the jukebox to play the same things. The regulars would start singing first and jolly her into it.

As she left to go home for Christmas, she found that she was actually going to miss it. The hectic feeling in the room as Abby crammed for finals, the camaraderie in the bar, even long, boring nights sitting at the Media Counter in the library.

…………..

"Hey!" Abigail rushed toward her, blonde hair flying, and Elise laughed as she folded her roommate into a hug.

"Hey, Abby. How was your Christmas?" She let her sea bag drop to the floor, a sudden sense of déjà vu flooding her. The canvas bag was fuller than when she'd left, her sisters and even her brother having made it home for the holiday, loaded down with gifts. The feeling that she'd done all this before intensified when she saw Cameron lounging on her bed, eyes sparkling with laughter.

"Cammie!" she burst out, hopping up by his feet and holding out her arms for a hug. As he embraced her, he chuckled,

"There's the smile made of sunlight. How was your Christmas, angel?" Elise rolled her eyes at his extravagant compliment and ran a hand through her now-auburn hair as she answered.

"Good! Claire and Marie came home, and even Josh made it! And Momma sent a bunch of food with me, so you have to help me eat it."

"You dyed your hair again! And cut it!" Abby clambered up onto Elise's bed as well, smacking her brother's legs to get him to move. She sat cross-legged behind her friend and began running her fingers through the silky hair that was so different from the flat mouse-brown her friend had had at first. She chattered away about her Christmas, her parents and the new semester as Cameron and Elise held each other's gaze and tried to hold back their laughter.

………

The white gauze covering her back, between her shoulder blades, pulled a little as Cam helped her into her coat. She smiled at the artist as he counted the twenties she had given him.

"Ya want the change?" he called after them as they started out of his 'office' and towards the front door of the tattoo parlor.

"Keep it!" Elise called back, "It's gorgeous, and you deserve it."

As they made their way outside, a blast of cold air hitting them as soon as Elise opened the door, Cam finally burst out with the laughter he'd been holding back all afternoon.

"What?" his friend demanded as she fought with the Caddy's lock. It finally popped and she slid into the cold interior, reaching over to unlock the passenger side door.

"Honey," he started as she stuck the key into the ignition, "you are the only girl I know who will go to church on Sunday morning, get a tattoo on Sunday afternoon and go back to church on Sunday night." She shrugged as the engine finally turned over, wincing at the pull of skin over her shoulders.

"It's prayer service tonight. I never miss one."

"Well, you're going to be late." Cam indicated the clock on the dashboard and grinned again as Elise swore soundly. "You talk to God with that mouth?"

"Look who's talkin'" she shot back as she pulled a u-turn out of the parlor's tiny parking lot. "Besides, God forgives all. Even my nasty sailor-mouth."

As they got back on Peter's Creek Road, Cam looked behind them, confused. They'd missed the turn.

"Hey, angel, I live that way."

"And church is this way."

"Oh," Cam grinned and teased, "I see. This whole thing was a big ruse to get me to go to church with you, wasn't it?"

They pulled into the parking lot of Bethlehem Baptist Church and Elise waved as she slowly passed an elderly couple making their way to the door. She pulled into a parking space, turned off the car and turned to him.

"Not really, but do you mind?"

Cam sighed and considered, leaning his head back against the cold glass of the window, staring at Elise. She could feel his eyes on her, but her head was bent over a pack of cigarettes, which she was flipping over and over nervously, her shining auburn hair hanging in a long curtain over the shoulders of her black wool coat.

"Well, what's going to happen?" She looked up at him, confusion written all over her face. "I mean, what does a prayer service entail?"

"Oh." She looked back down at her hands and slid the cigarettes into the console between the seats. As she looked back up through the windshield, the welcome sight of the lights inside the church shining through the stained glass windows caught her eye. The small brick building seemed to her like a lighthouse, the multi-colored lights of the windows washing her in purples and greens, and the steeple rising for all to see. "Well, we'll sing a few hymns, the preacher will say a little something, probably no more than ten minutes, then we'll be left to our own devices, to pray. I promise, no altar call, no "gays are evil' stuff-"

"No, I know," Cam interrupted. "You wouldn't come here if they were like that." She nodded, picking at her black nail polish. "Ok, come on." Cam popped the car door open after a short battle with the handle. "We're going to be late."

She took his hand as they crossed the parking lot, cold under January's grey early-evening sky. His hand was cold and shaking slightly, though from the cold or nerves, Elise wasn't quite sure. They climbed the concrete steps, her free hand reaching unconsciously to trail over the cold metal banister. They both reached for the brass handle on the heavy oak door, but Cam reached it first and ushered her into the warmth of the vestibule.

She sighed deeply as the warm, wax-scented air washed over her, and she shone a brief smile at Cam, before she realized that they really were late. They quietly entered the sanctuary and slid into a pew near the back, removing their coats as the small congregation sang "How Great Thou Art". Elise joined in, pulling a hymnal from the rack in the back of the pew in front of her and flipping to the correct page, holding it out to share with Cam. He gave her a reassuring smile and joined his warm tenor voice with hers as they sang the hymn.

The congregation sang two more hymns, during which Elise hardly glanced at the hymnal, other than to turn the pages. She watched Cam's eyes flicking over the page, quickly picking up the tune for each and listened to the way his voice blended with the others around her. As the congregation sat (all thirty of them), the pastor stood before them and began to speak.

"Oh, folks," the older gentleman began with a sigh, "I want to talk to you tonight about peace. It's something that is in short supply in this world of ours…"

Despite herself, Elise found her mind wandering as Pastor Greene spoke, the flickering candles on the alter arresting her attention and the soft cadence of his accent (South Carolinian) becoming a soft background noise for her own thoughts. Variations of the same theme kept running through her head: whether Cam was offended or not.

_I hope Cam's ok with this. I mean, I didn't mean to rope him into coming with me. I don't even know if he's ever been to church before! _

She was a bit startled when she heard the pastor began to lead them in prayer, but she bowed her head and waited for him to finish and leave them to their own private prayers.

"Oh, our Father. There are so few of us who are truly at peace. Tonight, I pray that those of us here who have forgotten or have never had the serenity of hearing the still, small voice of your Holy Spirit will remember and receive it gladly. This is all I ask tonight, in the name of your son, Jesus Christ."

As the pastor trailed off, Elise shifted out of her cross-legged position and leaned her elbows upon her knees.

'_Father,'_ she prayed simply and silently, _'I ask that you help get me through this coming semester, as you did the last. I need patience beyond all measure, Lord, and discipline to continue studying and working. And Lord, please, if there is something Cam needs to hear tonight, please speak to him. I know that he's troubled and sad, Lord, and I just want him to be at peace, like Pastor Greene said. Please, Lord, be with Laura, and Abby and Sarah this semester too. And as always, Lord, bless the Saints and keep them safe. Christ of my own heart, whatever befall, still be my vision, though ruler of all. Amen"_

She looked up to see most of the congregation with their heads still lowered, glancing occasionally at the prayer list. She turned her head to look at Cam and was surprised to see his head likewise bowed, but his eyes were closed and his hands folded, like a small child saying his prayers at bedtime. She smiled and crept out of the pew, headed for the door.

Elise wrapped her coat around her as she slid out the door. She'd wait for him outside and maybe have a smoke with Pastor Greene. She'd been surprised, after her second prayer service, when she'd been half-hiding in the lee of the building with her cigarette cupped in her hand and the pastor had walked up and calmly asked her if she had a light.

"Everyone's got vices, angel," he'd said. "But this doesn't hurt anyone but myself. And God forgives all."

She remembered the conversation on that hot September night as she retrieved her cigarettes from the car and sat down on the steps, letting the heat of the lighter warm her hands for a moment as she inhaled the first breath of smoke.

The door opened with a creak of brass hinges behind her and she glanced back to see the short, thin frame of the pastor, swaddled in an old-fashioned overcoat and scarf, coming down the steps. He lowered his nearly-sixty-year-old body slowly to the step next to her and lit his own cigarette with relish.

"So what did you think, angel?" he asked, grinning, as he always did.

"To be honest, Reverend, I didn't hear much of it. I was busy worryin' about Cameron," she admitted sheepishly. "But I think I heard something about my favorite verse in there somewhere."

"Ah, yeah." He shifted his weight a bit and leaned forward, his elbows on his knees, much as she had while praying. "Romans 8:38 and 39. I thought you'd catch that one. Cameron's the blond boy?"

"Yessir."

"Ah. Yeah, he's in there, prayin' away." Elise shifted uncomfortably next to the elderly pastor and took a long drag from her cigarette as the couple she had waved to left the church with a few words to the preacher and herself.

"Bye, Mr. Yoon. Mrs. Yoon." She sighed, and continued, quietly, "I don't even know if he's ever been to church before, pastor. I was late and he was with me, and he just kind of tagged along."

"Well, whether he has or not, he's talkin' to God now." Elise nodded and fiddled with her cigarette, bringing it to her lips. "He your boyfriend?" the pastor inquired shrewdly as he flicked away the drained butt of his cigarette.

"No, sir." She sighed and stubbed out the butt of her own cigarette. "He's gay." Pastor Greene nodded slowly and offered her another smoke from his pack. "Thanks."

They lit up simultaneously, each a bit lost in their thoughts as they took deep pulls from the cigarettes.

"Well, honey," Pastor Greene said. "You know where I stand on that." Elise smiled and nodded.

"God forgives all."

"And love is a gift."

They sat in silence, for the most part, shaking hands and waving as the parishioners slowly trickled out. Pastor Greene broke the silence and asked,

"Where were you, that you were late?"

Elise ducked her head, hair covering her face as she answered.

"Skin Thrills." The pastor merely nodded.

"Another cross?"

"No sir."

"Louisiana flag?"

"No sir. I already have one of those. Wings. Between my shoulderblades." Soft chuckles greeted her answer and she glanced over to see him shaking his head and laughing.

"Well, I do maintain that you are an angel on this earth, honey." It was Elise's turn to laugh as she answered.

"I'm just a college student, Reverend."

"Well," the pastor countered, "I believe that young man on his knees in that sanctuary might agree with me." He stood, slowly, allowing his bones to creak and pop as they wished. "I'm gonna go check on him. Everyone else is gone, and I have to lock up soon. Come on in the entrance hall and get warm."

Elise followed her pastor inside and sat gingerly on the steps that ran up from the side of the vestibule to the steeple as he opened the new glass doors to the sanctuary. She could just make out the back of Cameron's head, shining like wheat in the soft lighting as Pastor Greene sat down next to him. She sat, watching as he raised his gaze to meet the creased, smiling eyes of the old preacher. She saw him shake his head and murmur something as the pastor nodded kindly and placed his gnarled hand gently on the younger man's back. She tore her eyes away in deference to privacy as they bowed their heads together, the graying black head in close confidence with the thick gold.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, but her left leg was falling asleep when the two men left the sanctuary, Pastor Greene shutting off the lights as they left. The soft light of the candelabras in the vestibule shone weakly on Cam's skin as he smiled at her. Pastor Greene walked to the left side of the small entrance hall to begin blowing out the candles as Cam came towards her, his eyes more amber than green in the candlelight. His face was somber as he wordlessly pulled her into a hug.

Elise slid her arms around her friend's ribs as she felt the salty warmth of his tears drop onto her neck.

"What's wrong?" she asked quietly, her voice shaking and her cheek pressed against his.

"Nothing," he whispered back. "Not a thing. I love you, angel."

Elise pulled away slightly, her eyes downcast and rested her forehead against his.

"I'm not an angel, Cam."

Cam gently rubbed his nose against hers, enticing her to look at him. When she did, warm brown eyes meeting hazel, he grinned, eyes sparkling with tears and good humor.

"Yes you are." He pressed a firm kiss to her forehead and backed away, slipping his hands into hers. "You're the best friend I ever had, and you're an angel."

After the last candle was extinguished, Cameron, Elise and Pastor Greene left the church, the reverend locking it behind them and saying a gentle good night.

* * *

**AN 2: OK, I know I promised action, but then I realized that I still hadn't done what I like to call 'Cam's Conversion'. (I like alliteration!) And it's necessary for the stories (especially the as-yet-untitled "Cam-and-Elise-Meet-the-MacManuses") to see how much Cam and Elise change each other. I'm very sorry if you don't like the religious stuff, but it was necessary. (And I did warn you!) I'm kind of glossing over the sermon stuff here, but it'll be back in Day of Wrath. Big thanks to my Christian friends and my own former pastors and youth pastors for the background. I did some major research for this one! Also, I promise, no big 'I'm Suddenly Not Gay Anymore!" thing for Cam. I truly believe that you can be gay and Christian at the same time. No flames, please. If you disagree, go ahead, but is not the place for it. Honestly, I'm more worried about the religious content offending somebody than the violence that's coming up! Action next time! Also, some disturbing images. I'm trying to decide if the next chapter should be rated 'M'. Probably, but I'll warm you when I finish it.**


	5. Be Thou My Breastplate

**AN: Warning! This chapter rated 'M' for violence, language, two racial slurs, and general badness. Have fun! **

Chapter 5: Be Thou My Breastplate

January and February seemed to drag forever; the snow slowly turning to slush under the Cadillac's tires. The weekdays were especially tedious. Elise's eyes drifted to her watch all through class.

It was Saturday nights and Sunday mornings that she lived for. She had a few dates, as did Cam, but most Saturday nights found them at Pop's. Her behind the bar singing along with the old country songs and him bellied up to it drinking the beers she pulled for him. More often than not, he'd sleep on her floor, her cheap afghan pulled over his head. But no matter how bad his hangover, or how cold the morning, he would pull on a sweater and his leather jacket and make the long walk out to the parking lot to go to church with her.

The first morning that it snowed, classes were canceled. An ecstatic Elise had joined Abby and Laura in snowball fights, snow angels and making snowmen. Laura was a junior and also from Virginia, and worked the Media Counter at the library with Elise. The two local girls laughed at Elise's joy as she stood, tongue out, the ice crystals melting as they touched her tongue and sparkling on her eyelashes.

"Shut up!" Elise had commanded, shoving a handful of snow down the back of Laura's jacket. "I've never seen snow before, dumbass! I'm from fuckin' Louisiana!" She'd drawled 'Loosiana' so ridiculously that they had all burst out laughing and Laura had taken the opportunity to hit Elise full in the face with a handful of snow

Elise, who had never had to deal with cold like the mountains of Virginia in January, slowly added sweaters, gloves and heavy coats to her wardrobe. Her father Fed-Exed his old Navy peacoat to her, Marie sent a few of her sweaters from her undergraduate years in Colorado, but best of all, Josh sent her a watch cap and pair of tactical gloves. Although she had no use for the grips on the palms (designed to reduce recoil from firing a pistol), they were warm and comfortable.

When they arrived at church, she and Cam would shed their layers of wool and cotton as they made their way to the basement. Hanging coats and scarves over hooks in the 'dressing rooms' early on Sunday mornings, they would go join the choir for a final rehearsal before the service. They pulled on their robes, joking about how nice it was to wear jeans and sweaters to church, since no one would see their outfits anyway. They would mingle their voices, hers a rich, smoky alto and his a clear, sweet tenor, with twenty others, the only white faces standing out like sore thumbs in the choir loft.

Pastor Greene's frank manner and his uncompromising style came out in full force on Sunday mornings, exhorting his congregation to love and give without reservation. The shouts of "Amen!" and "Preach, preacher!" that rang out from the small crowd in the pews never failed to curl Elise's lips in a smile.

……

It was a cold Sunday morning, just before St. Patrick's Day when Elise and Cam slipped into the side door of the church and gingerly descended the stairs to the basement, as they had done so many times before. They had had a late night at Pop's, and Cam had drunk a few too many pints. Elise practically had to drag him to his feet, slapping his thigh and shouting that they were going to be late. He was trudging along behind her, grumbling under his breath and dragging his feet when Elise suddenly stopped on the stairs.

"Shh!" she held up a gloved hand, listening. She cocked her head, and Cam straightened. Nothing gets rid of a hangover faster than hearing that much fear in your friend's voice.

She crept down the stairs, sidling up to the choir room door. It was dark, heavy wood, with an old-fashioned paned window in the top half. She ducked under the window carefully and leaned her shoulder against the wall to the right of the door. Her footsteps sounded deafening to her as she strained to listen, waiting for the whimpering noise that had alerted her something wasn't right.

Elise peeked into the choir room, jerking back at what she saw. She shut her eyes quickly, trying to hold back the gasp that was building in her throat.

"What are you doing?" Cam groused.

She silenced him with a glare and waved him forward, pointing at the window. "Look!"

As he tiptoed forward to obey, Elise shut her eyes again, but the sight had already been burned onto her retinas. Mrs. Greene, the pastor's wife, slumping with her face against the upright piano, her warm brown fingers still over the keys which were now stained thick red with her blood. The Johnson sisters on the floor, their golden robes black with the blood gushing from their chests. Mr. and Mrs. Parker slumped in their chairs, hymnals still in their laps, almost as if they had fallen asleep, as they often did in the choir loft, their age catching up with them.

Still alive, Mama Faye was on her knees, begging the Lord for deliverance, the muzzle of a pistol pressed to her forehead. Pastor Greene standing as tall as his stooping back would allow, his hand on her shoulder and facing down the man pointing another gun at him. There were three of them, one sneering down at Mama Faye, with a Chinese dragon tattoo covering the back of his shaved head, one with the muzzle of his gun pressing against Pastor Greene's chest, wearing a huge black leather trenchcoat, and one whose flannel-clad shoulder was blocking the bottom of the window in the door.

Tears slipped past the walls of Elise's closed eyelids, cooling on her cheeks as she struggled to push the images away. _'Oh, god, oh god,'_ she kept repeating in her mind.

When the deafening blast of gunshots rang out, Elise's eyes flew open, locking with Cam's. He was mirroring her on the other side of the door, his gloved hands pressed against the cinderblock wall, an expression of shock and disgust on his face. Elise's eyes widened as she watched the flannel-clad shoulder blocking the window in the door turn around and her gaze flicked back to Cam.

She nodded her head towards the door, and her meaning was clear.

'_They're coming out here!'_

Cam's face shifted into an expression of fear. He looked at her helplessly. _'What do we do?'_

Just then, the doorknob turned and the heavy door began to open. Elise was suddenly eye-to-eye with the flannel-wearing man and she had no time left to think. Her hand reached for the doorknob of its own accord.

She quickly flung the door outward, catching the man on the other side directly in the face with the door's edge. She ducked immediately to avoid the punch that he sent flying wildly at her face and grabbed him by the back of the neck, swinging him around her, face-first into the cinderblock wall. With his arms splayed against the wall, it was child's play to grab his gun. As she turned it on him, she felt a rush of air behind her as Cam slipped past her and landed a heavy punch on the tattooed man's jaw. Elise shoved her left elbow into the middle of the man's flannel-covered back, keeping him immobilized as he struggled against her. When she put the muzzle of the gun to the back of his head, he stilled, nearly laughing,

"Go on, little girl. Shoot me."

Elise pressed the muzzle of the gun against his head, casting her eyes heavenward. "Father, forgive me. And give this man what he deserves," she whispered, next to his ear and pulled the trigger.

She turned to see Cam holding the third man, the one who had shot Pastor Greene, in a headlock, struggling to keep his human shield between himself and the gun that the tattoed man was pointing at him.

She pushed her hair away from her face, feeling the cold tracks of tears being pulled outwards by the strands. But she wasn't crying now, not as she raised the gun and calmly pulled the trigger twice more, dropping the man who had shot Mama Faye with a hole in his shoulder and another in his throat.

Cam disarmed the man in the trenchcoat and dropped him to the floor He gasped for breath and looked at her. His eyes were sparking, his face animated as he clutched the gun, sliding his finger into the trigger guard and holding it, nice and steady to the man's head.

As Elise walked towards them, sliding out the magazine to check how many rounds were left, her foot hit something metal that rolled across the tile floor. She bent to pick it up, turning the cylinder over.

"Spray paint?" she whispered, almost to herself. As she reached the kneeling man, she hefted the can in her right hand, switching the gun to her left.

"Spray paint?" She asked again, louder this time. When the man didn't answer her, she slid her hand down to the capped end of the can, leaving a good three inches of metal protruding from her fist. She raised it to shoulder level and backhanded him heavily, the metal lip of the can bit into the skin just under his eye.

Elise dropped into a crouch, staring directly into brown eyes. She considered him slowly, switching hands again, putting the Baretta back into her dominant hand.

"So, you fuckers came in here, defiling the house of the Lord by committing murder in this sacred place. And you were going to spray paint the place like fucking thirteen-year-old punks?" Her voice was soft and low, surprising her. "What were you going to put on the walls? Swatikas? Maybe a 'nigger' or two?"

He pressed his lips together, apparently trying to maintain his tough guy persona, and spoke with a sneer.

"Yeah, well. The niggers are all over the walls now."

Elise stood, anger rising in a hot flood and cocked the pistol in her hand. Cam did the same, and they exchanged a look. She saw all of her own anger and grief reflected back at her in his swimming hazel eyes. She nodded once as he did the same, and they both looked down at the man on the floor as they pulled the triggers.

…..

They were fine, dropping the guns and climbing the stairs. They were fine as Elise struggled with the ignition of the Cadillac. They were fine for three miles on Peter's Creek Road. But as they passed Skin Thrills, her hands began to shake on the steering wheel and she pulled into the parking lot, turning the car off and covering her face with her gloved hands.

As her shoulders began to shake with her sobs, she felt Cam's large hands grasping at her pulling her over the console and into the passenger's seat with him. His arms went around her and she buried her face in his neck, rocking together, his tears falling and mingling with hers.

"They're gone," he whispered. "We killed them, it's ok."

"It's not ok, Cam," Elise choked out, raising her head. "It'll never be ok again. Didn't you see them? They're gone!" She grasped Cam's face between her hands, feeling his stubble prickle her palms and meeting his eyes.

"Oh God." Cam's arms tightened around her as her words fell. "Pastor Greene. Mr. Yoon. Sharon, all of them."

Elise nodded, their arms around each other as their tears fell and their sobs rose together in a soulful tune of grief.

**AN 2: Who loves MKOLO? That's right, ME! And you should too, because this chapter is now a LOT easier to understand, lol. Muchos gracias, chica! (Go read Redemption! It's what I do when I get a little blocked. Well, either that or Waiting Game, lol.)**


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